The Ordinary Princess

Cold, but perceptive. He didn’t wait for her to admit it, but picked up the telephone and spoke briefly into it before glancing back at her.

She’d been holding her breath, but his expression did not suggest he was about to have her bodily ejected. Yet.

‘So,’ he continued, as if there had been no interruption. ‘Enlighten me. What are you suggesting, Miss Varndell?’

Her mouth dried. Lecturing the man on the best way to raise his niece was not going to get her the prized interview. But it might get her some memorable quotes.

If she provoked him sufficiently she fancied she’d be able to name her price for the story. And Trevor McCarthy would have to stand in line.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

Well, why not? He’d asked for it, and the least she could do in return for his unwitting assistance in promoting her career was to give the Prince the benefit of her experience.

‘Young people need to test themselves against the world so that they can learn from their mistakes. Discover safe boundaries. Keeping them wrapped in cotton wool leaves them vulnerable.’ His face remained expressionless. No hint of that smile now. She swallowed nervously. ‘Later.’

‘You are speaking from personal experience?’

‘Well, I’m young,’ she hedged. Then realised that the Princess would probably think her well past it at twenty-four. ‘Well, youngish,’ she amended. ‘Young enough to remember being Katie’s age.’

Not that she’d had parents to restrict her movements. But school had been worse. You couldn’t have a row with an institution. And slamming doors was pointless. You didn’t get understanding. You just got a lecture on the subject of thoughtful behaviour, followed by a week of detention.

‘Well, thank you for your advice, but I’d rather my niece didn’t make her mistakes on my watch. She can return to Montorino to complete her education.’

‘That’s a little harsh, isn’t it? One mistake and she’s out?’

His mouth straightened into a hard line that warned her to have a care. Then, presumably because she was an outsider and could not be expected to understand this, he gave a curt bow of the head and, conceding the point, said, ‘Maybe it is harsh, but this family has provided the newsprint of Europe with more than enough scandal. I do not want a photograph of Katerina, under age and behaving badly, to appear in your newspapers,’ he said.

Her throat dried.

‘I suppose the British press is no worse than anywhere else, but they’d make the most of such a story,’ he continued.

‘Oh, yes. I see.’ He’d been speaking generally. It took a moment for her heartbeat to return to something approaching normal. ‘It’s, um, just as well there wasn’t a newspaper photographer lurking outside when she made a break for it, then.’

There was nothing in his expression to suggest that he had even noticed her sarcasm, but his upper lip was so stiff that any kind of expression would have been difficult.

‘That kind of photographer only lurks where there is likely to be something worth his time. If tonight’s escapade becomes public knowledge they’ll be stacked ten deep.’

‘It won’t become public knowledge, surely? Unless she makes a fuss when the leash is jerked.’

‘You’re suggesting that if I don’t jerk it no one will notice her?’

‘Well, she wasn’t wearing a tiara.’

‘You recognised her,’ he pointed out.

Oh, sugar. Think. Think. ‘Only because she was coming out of your official residence.’ Another raised brow queried how she knew that. ‘I’ve seen the flag,’ she said, which appeared to satisfy him. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised her if I’d seen her in the street.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘In black denim, and with a hair-do from hell, she didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a princess.’

‘Nevertheless, seventeen is a dangerous age,’ he declared with the confidence of a man who remembered just how dangerous it could be. ‘Which is why I am sending her home.’

‘It’s a dangerous age wherever you live,’ she replied. And, since she had nothing to lose, she added, ‘Or are the boys in Montorino different? A little less testosterone-driven?’ She met his cool stare, matched it, then, with measured insolence, added, ‘Sir?’

‘Not noticeably,’ he admitted after an epic pause. ‘But I can be certain that she’ll receive appropriate respect there.’

‘She’s seventeen! She doesn’t want respect. She wants to have fun—and you can’t keep her locked up in an enchanted tower for ever. Try it and she’ll escape with the first good-looking scoundrel with a head for heights—’ Too late, she remembered that his sister had done something very like that.

There was a tap on the door and, with the temperature of Prince Alexander’s expression sinking in direct proportion to the depth of the hole she was digging with her mouth, Laura seized the opportunity to shut up.

He continued to stare at her for what seemed like for ever before he finally turned away and snapped, ‘Come in.’

One of the doors opened and a young maid appeared bearing a first aid box resting on a silver tray. She dropped a curtsey in the direction of the Prince before putting the tray on the table in front of Laura. ‘Excuse,’ she said, nervously. ‘You will—? I will—?’

Laura smiled encouragingly, but the girl was too shy to respond. Instead she picked up the first aid box and, her hands shaking noticeably, tried to open it. The lid at first refused to give but when, in desperation, she gave it a sharp tug it flew open, scattering the contents over the table and floor.

There was a moment of utter stillness before, with a wail of anguish, the girl rushed from the room.

‘Why on earth do these silly girls behave as if I’m going to beat them?’ the Prince demanded.

‘I can’t imagine,’ Laura said caustically as she bent to retrieve the contents of the box. ‘You’d better send her home with Princess Katerina—’

‘Leave that!’

She glanced up.

He lifted a hand in a gesture that was at once supplication and exasperation. ‘My apologies. I did not mean to bark at you.’

He was concerned about Katerina, she realised with a belated flash of insight. Behind that rigid exterior he was just like any man worried about a reckless teenager in his care.

Recalling some of her own wilder moments, she felt her over-developed sense of empathy well up, and another dangerous surge of sympathy for him. She quashed it mercilessly. He did not need her sympathy. Jay had offered him as a target because of his very lack of sympathetic qualities.

‘I’m sure she’ll be okay,’ she said and, ignoring his command, continued to pick up the dressings.

‘Are you?’ He bent to help her, folding his long legs as he reached beneath the table. ‘It isn’t easy.’

‘Being her guardian?’ she asked, catching her breath as his shoulder brushed against hers.

‘Being young,’ he countered, concentrating on his task. ‘Being so visible. Having every mistake you make the subject of common gossip.’

He was holding a pouch containing an antiseptic wipe as if not quite sure what to do with it.

‘Shall I take that?’ she offered, holding out her hand.

Alexander Orsino looked up to discover that Laura Varndell was regarding him solemnly, her wide silvery blue eyes apparently brimming over with compassion, concern.

He had no need of her concern. No need of any assistance. He wasn’t helpless and to demonstrate the fact, in the absence of the maid, he would deal with her grazes himself.

‘Sit down,’ he said, tearing open the pouch containing an antiseptic wipe before sitting down beside her. ‘Give me your hand.’

For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, then wordlessly—which was probably a first—she did as she was told, holding out her hand for his attention. It was long, finely boned—a hand, wrist, made for the sparkle of diamonds. But it was bare of any kind of adornment other than nail polish.

He supported it, holding it gently as he dabbed at her knuckles with the antiseptic.

She was trembling almost imperceptibly, doubtless still feeling the after effects of her reckless behaviour, and he found himself wanting to tighten his grip, reassure her.

‘Tell me, Miss Varndell,’ he said, by way of distraction, ‘do you make a habit of tackling burglars?’

‘I couldn’t say. I’ve never been in that situation before. The truth is, I didn’t stop to think.’

‘Well, on this occasion I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said, glancing up and momentarily left struggling for breath as he looked straight into her huge, solemn eyes. ‘Will you promise me that next time you think you’re witnessing a crime in progress you will walk away? Call the police?’

‘If I’d done that today you wouldn’t have known that your niece had made a break for freedom,’ she pointed out.

‘Even so. Promise me.’

‘I’ll try,’ she offered, hooking a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear to reveal a tiny gold earring in the shape of a star. ‘But only if you’ll stop calling me Miss Varndell, as if you’re addressing a public meeting. I prefer Laura.’

He preferred formality. It was a useful way of keeping his distance. Except, of course, Laura Varndell had already breached his highest defences. Few outsiders ever made it into this room.

Stalling for time, he looked for another antiseptic wipe, took his time about opening it before he turned to face her, lifting her chin with the touch of his fingers, turning her face to the light. She had silver-blue eyes, clear, almost translucent skin that was the gift of cool, northern skies, and stars in her ears. And as she lifted her head, and her flaxen hair slid back from her neck, he found himself imagining how it would look encircled by the wide collar of pearls that had once belonged to his mother.

Which was enough to bring him back to earth.

And, faintly embarrassed to be caught staring, he said, ‘It’s nothing. No real damage.’ But he touched the moist cloth to her cheek to clean away a smear of dust. ‘What did you do?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’

‘You seem very knowledgeable about the dangers of restricting teenage girls. Were you reckless? At seventeen?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Her lips parted as she laughed. ‘I really don’t think I should tell you that. I’m on Princess Katerina’s side in this and I’d hate to prejudice her case.’

‘In other words, yes.’ She didn’t answer. ‘Did you escape down drainpipes?’ he persisted. ‘Go to clubs and parties your parents had forbidden?’

Her smile faded. ‘I had no parents to forbid me. They were killed when I was a child.’

He stilled. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura.’

She’d finally touched him with this common bond between them, and for a moment he wanted to say that he understood her loss, her pain—

‘It was a long time ago and really I barely knew them,’ she said quickly, before he could speak. He recognised the defence mechanism. ‘They were always away a lot, and then I was at boarding school, but in answer to your question, yes, Your Highness, I was frequently reckless—although I never climbed down a drainpipe.’ Her lovely eyes appeared to cloud momentarily. ‘I’m afraid of heights.’

‘But not much else, I’d suspect,’ he said.

‘Then you’d be wrong,’ she said, jacking the smile back into place, determinedly shaking off whatever shadow had crossed her thoughts. ‘I’m absolutely terrified at this moment.’

He regarded her quizzically. He knew she was a little shaky, had felt the almost imperceptible tremble of her hand as it lay in his, but outwardly she was calm, composed.

‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You’re not like that silly girl, afraid of me.’ It was not a question.

‘Well, actually I am, just a bit. But only because I know you’re going to be angry with me.’

He leaned back, surprised. ‘Why would I be angry with you?’

‘Because I’m going to ask you to give Katerina another chance. Ground her, if you must,’ she rushed on. ‘She’s been foolish; of course she has. But even princesses need a day off now and then. An opportunity to be ordinary.’

‘Ordinary?’

‘You know. Girl-in-the-street ordinary.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘Has she ever been on a bus or the underground?’ she demanded. Then, as an afterthought, ‘Have you?’

Scarcely sure whether to be amused or affronted, he said, ‘I’ve never found it necessary.’

‘The chauffeur is on call twenty-four hours a day, I guess.’

‘Not the same one,’ he assured her, opting for amusement. He had a feeling it would be safer. ‘But, yes. It goes with the job. I am on call twenty-four hours a day, too. Seven days a week. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year.’

‘You never have a day off?’

‘I escape occasionally.’ He put on working clothes, went to his vineyard to work up an honest sweat. ‘But my pager is never switched off.’

‘Poor you, too, then,’ she responded. And sounded as if she meant it.

‘You make it sound as if I am deprived,’ he said, suddenly finding even his simulated amusement difficult to sustain. ‘I cannot believe, given the choice, that you would surrender a chauffeur-driven car in order to battle with the rush hour crowds on the underground.’

‘Maybe not, but you lose something, keeping the outside world at a distance. The underground may be crowded and dirty, but it’s real,’ she said. ‘Using it is a life skill. Like learning to use a public telephone—’

‘My niece has a mobile phone,’ he said, cutting off her nonsense. ‘And I can assure you she knows how to use it. It costs a small fortune—’

‘And if she lost it?’ she demanded, interrupting him. People did not interrupt him. ‘Or it was stolen? This evening, for instance, on her way to this club. If she got into difficulties would she know how to use a public call box?’

Now she was being ridiculous. ‘How difficult can it be?’

‘Nothing is difficult if you know how to do it. But suppose that first time she was frightened, confused, in a panic? Suppose it was one of those boxes that only takes a prepaid phone card and she didn’t have one?’

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